


Chess With Ghosts

by melsdiscmellohi



Series: Ghost Fics [1]
Category: Dream SMP (Video Blogging RPF), Minecraft (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dream Team SMP Setting (Video Blogging RPF), Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Best Friends, Crying, Denial, Dream Team SMP Spoilers, Five Stages of Grief, Fluff, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Post-TommyInnit's Death, Tubbo's in denial, Wholesome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-03
Updated: 2021-03-03
Packaged: 2021-03-16 09:34:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,038
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29822943
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/melsdiscmellohi/pseuds/melsdiscmellohi
Summary: Tubbo often forgets Tommy's really gone.He still sees Tommy, he plays chess with him, he talks to him.Is this what "denial" feels like?
Relationships: Toby Smith | Tubbo & Phil Watson, Toby Smith | Tubbo & TommyInnit, Wilbut Soot & TommyInnit
Series: Ghost Fics [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2192700
Comments: 3
Kudos: 37





	Chess With Ghosts

**Author's Note:**

> hi everyone! ty for all the support on my last work :)
> 
> this one's much happier, but there's still just a LITTLE bit of angst  
> this work is also a lot shorter, as it's just a quick something i had spinning round my mind mid-lesson and i had to write it down
> 
> there isn't any trigger warnings for this one!
> 
> im always open to feedback, enjoy!

The fire’s lambent light steals away from the velvet-black shadows that dance along the wall. I revel in the pretty carnelian colour, watching as diminutive flecks of aureolin light also float around the atmosphere. They wash the books around us in a golden hue, making them quite transfixing.

I hum along to the all-too familiar tune of Mellohi that echoes around the library.

Brazenly, I look up at Tommy, my best friend, and grin. He locks eyes with me, keeping a poker face. His blonde curls droop down to his eyebrows - he needs a haircut soon. The stubble on his jawline is beginning to become more visible. Does this boy ever take care of himself? 

I watch as Tommy straightens his scruffy collar, brushing the specks of dirt off his knees. He folds back his cuffs and then I hear wood scrape against wood, and Tommy makes his move. My eyes immediately shoot down to watch the checkered chessboard. He has blundered his piece.

“Checkmate.” I declare victoriously, moving my queen to his final piece and indelicately whacking it off the board.

“Let me win for once.” He moans, sighing heavily.

“And have you brag in my ear for the next two months? I don’t think so.” I shake my head, and catch him looking at me whilst chuckling, and I frown. “What’s so funny?” I raise my eyebrows, folding my arms and watching him closely. 

“We’ve been doing this all day - are you not bored?” He asks, leaning against the back of his chair and crossing his legs. The candlelight casts shadows down onto his face. I frown again, catching his gaze and briefly admiring his resplendent cerulean eyes, before finally responding.

“How could I ever be bored of spending time with you? You’re my best friend.” I state softly, voice barely above a whisper, making my first move on the chessboard. Tommy watches me, looking pitiful, and doesn’t make his move. Normally he’s quick to fight back when playing chess, so why isn’t he moving his piece?

“I’m chuffed, but…” He sighs, staying completely stagnant whilst still examining me. I sit upright against my velvet-lined chair, waiting for him to continue, intrigued. I attempt to read his expression. His eyes are etched with worry. Did I do something? “Tubbo, you need to remember,” He begins, and I can sense that his next sentence isn’t going to be something I’ll want to hear. “That I am dead.” His words cut deep into my skin, like a wound, right to the bone. I blink back tears, and when my eyes are open, he’s gone. Vanished, as if he were never there. Just like that, I am alone again, sitting in front of my chess board, playing with nobody. Realisation scores my stomach, and my heart lurches from my chest. Tommy...

-

They always say there are stages of grief, and I suppose I’m just in the denial stage. Nobody ever believes me, but I swear I still see him sometimes. I still see the faint outline of Tommy’s lissom frame tracing around L’Manburg’s ruins. 

Whenever I see his faded body scurry past me, I always hear the recognisable tunes of Cat or Mellohi. I suppose the music switches when Tommy’s mood switches, or maybe it’s to do with the weather? I’m not sure, but I never ask. Most of the time when I spot him, he’s sobbing, or it’s evident he’s afraid of something.

Every so often, I manage to catch Tommy in a giddy state. The state I used to see him in on stream, when he’s grinning at his monitor, a can of coke in hand. I’ve exchanged words with him since his death, a few times. We often sit in the library that was built next to the L’Manburg ruins, warmed by the crackling fire licking up the logs, and play chess. I update him about me and Philza’s daily antics, and he speaks to me about Wilbur. 

I never get to talk to Tommy for long. He only seems to come into the library for his visits during rainy nights. It’s Autumn, so rainy nights happen often, however Tommy only stops by once or twice a week. It’s always on random days - he doesn’t seem to plan his visits. I try my hardest to prepare for his arrivals, by baking a carrot cake with Niki, or begging Philza to visit the Chippy on his way home from work.

I try my hardest to cheer Tommy up. It must be so lonely. I try to only update him about positive things.

“Tommy! Sam Nook finished the hotel. It’s so pretty.” “Tommy! Come in, I went to the fields with Phil today and we put together a bouquet for you.”

That one time I made Tommy a bouquet, he had been so happy. His face had lit up and glowed with halcyon, excitement fizzing from his vague figure. He thanked me lots, and grasped the flowers tightly.

Philza came home early that night, and I wanted Tommy to talk to him, but Tommy refused. He shook his head vigorously, dropped the flowers onto the table and stepped back into the shadowy corners of the library. I knew he stayed there, peering out from behind books, watching as Philza explained the flowers to me. Why didn’t he just join in? I know how much he adores the family dynamic we all have, and I know he misses it greatly.

Everyone says I’m crazy, or that I’m making it up, but I’m not. I really do see Tommy ambling around L’Manburg, and it rips holes in my heart when I have to see him upset. I don’t dare interact when he’s sad, because I don’t really know what to do. I frequently glimpse him hunched over his own gravestone, on the border of L’Manburg, wailing into his old uniform. His tears come out in choked sobs, cascading down his face. 

I don’t like seeing Tommy in that state, and I always wish I could help, but it’s like I’m frozen. I stand, static, just watching from a distance. It hurts a lot. I miss Tommy. I miss Wilbur. Oh, and maybe now I’m grieving, rather than being in denial?

**Author's Note:**

> me again! did you enjoy that? would you maybe like a part 2?  
> sorry it was so short, the next one will be longer  
> any comments & bits of feedback are always appreciated :)


End file.
